A Tale of Coming Out
by Connie rose
Summary: Today was Smalls' sixteenth birthday, and if she was a member of high society it would be her mindlessly blathering about coming out into society and debut balls. Written for the first circulation of Raggazzed12's Newsies Pape Selling Competition.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, everyone!**

**I'm so excited for this!**

**As I said in the summary, this was written for the first circulation of Raggazzed12's Newsies Pape Selling Competition. Even though we're in our first circulation there are still three spots available. You can write movie or musical verse. So please, join!**

**Requirements:**

**Favorite Newsie: I used Smalls for this one. She is one of my favorites as I love creating a back story for her. But it was so hard to chose!**

**Task: A time when the newsboys held a party for your favorite newsie.**

**Prompts:**

**Objects: Lantern**

**Colors: Red**

**Word count: 1,707 (without author's notes)**

* * *

Smalls' POV

"Extra! Extra! President William H. McKinley shot at the Pan-America Exposition in Buffalo— currently in critical condition!" I yell at the top of my lungs.

It's the kind of headline that needs no help. Earthquakes, wars, shot presidents— those are the headlines that sell themselves. Scandal and the names of bigwigs like Carnegie or Vanderbilt do the trick as well. Especially when put together in the same headline.

But even with this gift of a headline, I've barely sold half of my papers today.

When people see a ratty girl dressed in boy's clothes that do little to hide her newfound curves standing on a corner hawking headlines, they tend to skirt around her. I don't really blame them.

It was worse in the Bronx, where my daily spot was a heavily Italian neighborhood full of mothers whom in no way wanted their daughters speaking to me. That's why I returned to Manhattan.

I left Manhattan for its neighboring borough five years ago, when I was eleven. I liked it there, but I missed the boys I had sold with since I was eight. When they went on strike two years ago, I was shocked but eager to join in. It was the first time I'd seen the boys in three years and our reunion was surrounded by a heavy air of urgency, but they were all quick to comment on how I hadn't changed. Personality wise, that is.

"C'mon people! The president's been shot! Don't ya want to read about it?!"

A portly man escorting a girl I assumed was his daughter shoved me out of the way unceremoniously. They were part of high society, if their clothing was any indication, and clearly thought themselves above me. Attempting to resident the urge to stick my tongue out at them I decided to follow the two instead. Maybe I could get them to buy a paper.

"Oh Papa, I'm so excited! I can't believe we just picked up the dress for my debut ball! I'm finally coming out!" the daughter twittered.

They got into a carriage that was waiting at the curb.

I sighed, both because of the lost opportunity and because of the reminder.

Today was my sixteenth birthday, and if I was a member of high society it would be me mindlessly blathering about coming out. If I were a member of high society, I would also be squeezed into a torture device, also known as a corset, so I was better off from that standpoint.

Typically I just had one of the girls at the lodging house help me bind my chest, both for the support and to help me look younger and more boyish. Unfortunately, I was on the bustier so it failed in that last respect.

Playing down your age is a classic newsie trick. It helps get you pity purchases, but it is especially helpful for girls. Boys can usually sell semi successfully until they're around 18— 19 if you're lucky like Jack. Girls usually only last until they're about 14. By that point, they've started to mature and need to either find a new job in some factory or start looking for opportunities to settle down. Both of those options made me want to gag.

Still, it would be nice to get dressed up and celebrate my becoming a woman. I haven't worn an actual dress since before I became a newsie.

* * *

"You know what? Fine!"

I was so done. I'd been out here for seven hours and no one was buying any papers.

Cursing quietly under my breath, I began the walk back to the distribution center.

Weasel raised his eyebrows at me when I walked in to sell my papers back. Usually I stuck it out longer than this.

I ignored him and headed to the boys lodging house. It was more likely someone would be there than at my lodging house.

As I approached the front steps, Katherine pounced on me.

"Smalls! How are you? Jack said you'd be selling late today."

Don't get me wrong, I like Katherine. She's a good friend, and she's helped me out of some girl pickles in the past year. But sometimes she can come on a bit strong. Today was one of those days.

"Happy sixteenth!"

"Um, thanks? How did you know?" I questioned.

"Jack told me."

"Of course." I sigh.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just... a bad selling day."

"Well, I've got a surprise for you. Come with me to my place."

She looped her arm through mine, not giving me much of a choice.

* * *

"Are you serious?"

"Would I have attempted to take the skirt in if I wasn't?"

When we had reached Katherine's one room apartment, she led me straight to her bed and plopped me down. She had then proceeded to pull out a dress, a skirt, a blouse, a sash and some undergarments and lay them on the bed.

"Katherine, I can't accept these!" I said exlaimed, gesturing at the two outfits.

"Of course you can! Consider them birthday presents."

"But..."

"No buts, Smalls. The boys told me that you need to get another job soon and, well, you can't really go to any other form of work dressing like that. Besides, I've been planning on giving you these for a while now. I think this dress would look wonderful on you."

"Katherine, really. I..."

"Smalls, just try on the dress. Please."

"Fine. But I'm going to make it up to you somehow."

Katherine made a noncommittal noise before picking the dress up.

"Take your shirt of, and I'll help you into the dress."

I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off, taking more care to fold it than usual.

"Smalls..." said Katherine.

"Yes?"

"Why is your chest bound?"

"Um, it helps for support and sort of makes my bust look smaller for selling."

"Well, you won't need to with this dress. Or the blouse, for that matter. Do you want help taking them off?"

I nodded and Katherine helped me to unwrap the bandages. With a bit of help, I slipped into the undergarments and pulled the dress over on top.

I made to walk over to the mirror, but Katherine directed me instead to a basin of water.

"Wash your face and unbraid your pigtails, then come sit here," she instructed.

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to do your hair."

* * *

I stood in front of the mirror, staring. I scarcely recognized myself.

The dress was pale pink with delicate embroidery around the collar and waist. It was simple but so beautiful, and I loved the way it flared out when I spun. Katherine had loosely curled my hair and arranged it so the curls framed my face. For the first time in years, I really felt like a girl.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes. Thank you so much!" I couldn't help it, I giggled. I'm glad the boys weren't here to hear it. They'd never let me live it down.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

I marveled at my reflection in Katherine's mirror for a while longer, turning this way and that.

"Oh!" exclaimed Katherine. "We need to get going."

"What? Going where?"

"To the lodging house."

"Okay. Just let me change."

"No time!"

Katherine was rushing around her apartment, throwing things into a bag pell-mell.

"What do you mean?"

Katherine snaked her arm through mine, dragging me out the door.

"It's seven-thirty. They said we need to be there half an hour ago."

"What? Who said? Katherine! Katherine!"

She didn't answer as we rushed out into the streets of New York City.

* * *

By the time we reached the lodging house I was out of breath, which was quite a feat for Katherine to have accomplished.

The lights were off in the entryway, as with almost the entire first floor, but I could see light streaming out of one of the rooms onto the second floor landing.

Katherine plowed forward, up the stairs, and I followed behind her.

"Where are they? Kat said they'd be here at seven," asked a voice from within the room.

"I don't know. How much longer do you think we should wait?"

"I say we stop waiting and eat the cake."

"Idiot. That cake's for Smalls."

We turned the corner into the room, and I froze in the doorway, open-mouthed.

The room was lit by a dozen or so handmade paper lanterns, hung from the ceiling. The room was cleaner than I'd ever seen it, and someone had hung a painstakingly lettered banner across the room that read 'Hapy birth Day, SmaLLs'.

Katherine cleared her throat, alerting the newsies to our presence. The room fell silent, and then there was a cry of "SURPRISE!"

The boys crowded around me, all talking at once. One of the younger newsies, a boy of eight whom we'd dubbed Skipper, pushed his way to the front.

"What do you think of my sign, Smalls? Do ya like it? Do ya?"

I tried to say 'yes, I do like it', but my mouth wouldn't form the words.

Jack spoke up from his position by a table laden with a cake and a bowl of punch.

"We figured since you're sixteen today, and in different circumstances you'd be coming out, we should throw you a party."

"We've been planning it for a couple months now," spoke up Romeo, "'Cause we had to save up money and the like."

"Can we show 'er the present we got 'er?"

Jack nodded, and Skipper ran over to the table. He picked up a small box and ran back, thrusting the box into my hands.

"Go on. Open it."

I carefully opened the box. Inside, lying on a piece of cotton, was a necklace. It was roughly the size of a dime and made of red glass, polished to perfection.

"It's not much. Just a prop a vaudeville was trying to get rid of. But we wanted to get you a necklace or somethin', and it's the most we could afford. We all pitched in, and... well... do ya like it?"

I nod before looking up at them, not bothering to blink the tears out of my eyes.

"I love it."

* * *

**I got my information about the headline Smalls was hawking at the beginning of the story from the Library Of Congress's database. I actually found some newspaper articles online from 1901 about the event. One is from the New York Sun, the other from the Evening World. PM me if you'd like the links.**

**If you'd like a mini history lesson here is the rundown of what happened:**

**September 6, 1901. President William McKinley, the 25th president of the United States, is shot at the Pan American Exposition in Buffalo, NY. Anarchist Leon Czolgosz is arrested in connection with the attack.**

**September 14, 1901. McKinley dies of complications from his bullet wounds. Vice President Theodore Roosevelt assumes the presidency.**

**September 15, 1901. A funeral train carrying McKinley's casket travels from Buffalo to the Capitol in Washington, DC, and finally to Ohio, where McKinley is buried.**

**September 23, 1901. Czolgosz's trial begins. Three days later, the jury finds him guilty and sentences him to death.**

**October 29, 1901. Czolgosz is executed.**

**President McKinley was the third US president assassinated.**

**Four sitting presidents have been assassinated (meaning they were killed while in office): Abraham Lincoln (the 16th President), James A. Garfield (the 20th President), William McKinley (the 25th President) and John F. Kennedy (the 35th President).**


	2. Authors Note: Please read!

**Hi, everyone!**

**Sorry if you thought this is an update. It's not. This story is very strickly a one shot.**

**I'm kinda breaking rules here, but I'm going to do it anyway. **

**About a day after I posted this story my friend Charlotte sent me a picture she had drawn of Smalls for this story. Before I get to my mini- _something _about how much I love it, let me say this: I've made it the new cover for this story with her permission. Feel free to marvel over it (I know I have), and I have no jurisdiction over whether or not you download it and use it someplace else (because while does not allow copying/ downloading from a story there is nothing that prohibits you from doing that for the cover art), but please, please, please, if you do give Charlotte credit. She didn't sign it or anything, and I have no idea how to add something on the computer after the fact, but I still want her to get credit.**

**Now, on to my mini _something. _This bit is mainly so I can express how much I love it and love that she made it for me, so if you've read this far and want to stop feel free to do so. **

**I can't tell you how much I love the drawing. It's almost exactly how I pictured Smalls, and it captures the essence of the story really well. I also am amazed that she put the effort into drawing the picture. She isn't in the Newsies fandom, nor has she ever seen the musical (or movie for that matter), and she also doesn't have the weird obsession I have with bygone eras. So she researched everything before she went to draw the picture. (We were also talking yesterday and she told me how she went through the story and picked it apart to give me feed back, which she's done with my other stories- it's all really nice amazing feedback, but refrained from sending it to me so she could surprise me with the picture. So, that like doubled the time and effort.) That she wanted to do that for me, and put in all the effort it's just... **

**(_I really thought that I'd be better at putting this into words when writing it then while speaking it. Sigh.)_**

**Charlotte, if you read this, I know I've thanked you many times already but still, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!**

**I have some of the most amazing friends ever, Charlotte, Sonicblue99 (who I know in real life), Zoe, Thomas, Allie, and quite a few others who i'm not mentioning only of the sake of how long I'm dragging this authors note of sorts on. I love them all so much and I'm so lucky to have all of them!**

**Well, if you made it to the end of that spiel, thank _you! _**

**Hopefully I'll get a story up here again soon!**

**~Connie rose**


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